


hope you lose

by ihsirciaige



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, cedric is way too nice, fred is in denial, george and cho are bosses, more like quidditch rivals to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 08:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24967045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihsirciaige/pseuds/ihsirciaige
Summary: “Oi Diggory!”“Hope you lose.”
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Fred Weasley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1: 1st - 3rd Year

Years 1-3 of my fredric fic <3 

...

1989

“Weasley!” 

Fred knew who he was, or course. They had Transfiguration and Herbology together. Besides, even at eleven years old, Cedric Diggory had a charismatic air about him that made him objectively beautiful. It was impossible to not notice him, to not like him. 

“Weasley, wait up!”

Cedric was waving a blank piece of parchment in the air, a piece of parchment that Fred immediately recognized as the one he and George had stolen from Filch a month prior. 

“You dropped this.”

Fred looked at the paper, then back at Cedric, wondering why this boy had taken the time to return a seemingly useless object to someone he had never spoken three words to. 

“Thanks.”

A handful of jokes and quippy remarks came to Fred’s mind, but they died on his tongue when he realized Cedric looked nervous. Cedric Diggory, the most well-liked first year at Hogwarts, had never looked nervous before, Fred was sure of it. 

“Right err...see you at the match then,” Cedric said, giving Fred an awkward wave that gave off the impression that he had started the action before he’d entirely made up his mind on whether or not he wanted to perform it. 

“See you,” replied Fred. It struck him after the words left his mouth that they weren’t true. The match was Hufflepuff vs Gryffindor, and they would surely be supporting their respective houses in separate stands. As Cedric walked away, Fred realized how lame of a response “see you” had been.

“Oi, Diggory!” 

Cedric whipped around to look back at him.

“What?”

Fred grinned. “Hope you lose!” 

…

1990

“Nervous, Johnson?” 

Angelina Johnson rolled her eyes as the Gryffindors walked towards the quidditch pitch. It was only the first quidditch game of the season, and she was ready to ask Charlie Weasley to kick his younger brothers off the team. 

“It’s your first game too,” she pointed out, “and the Hufflepuff beaters are huge so it’s you two who should be worried.”

Angelina and the twins both knew that the threat was mainly empty. While Fred and George were much smaller than the competing beaters, their agility and strength was enough to make them some of the best players in the school, despite being only second years. Not to mention their complete synchronization. 

“Us, worried?”

“About Hufflepuffs?”

“The badgers?”

“We’re Gryffindors.”

“We haven’t lost a game to Hufflepuff in-”

“-seven years.”

“I hate when you guys do that,” Angelina muttered. 

“No you don’t,” the twins replied simultaneously.

“Weasleys, Johnson, stop fighting, the Hufflepuffs are here.”

Oliver Wood was a third year, and though he had proved to be a brilliant keeper the year before, Angelina was quickly becoming irritated by him bossing his teammates around. 

“Shove off, you’re not the captain,” George replied, slapping Wood’s shoulder.

“Imagine if you were the captain,” added Fred, moving to walk on the opposite side of Wood as his brother, “And we had to listen to your squeaky voice all day.”

“Dunno what I’d do-”

“-probably quit the team-”

“-you’d have to beg us to stay-”

“-on your knees would do-”

“-and then-”

“SHUT UP,” yelled Wood, pushing the redheads away from him. Angelina thought perhaps she didn’t mind Fred and George’s habit of finishing each other’s sentences so bad after all. 

“Hey we’re only joking, Wood,” reassured Fred, “it would be a tragedy if you weren’t on the team.”

“There’d be no one to hit bludgers at during practice.” 

Wood rounded on George, “You know what-”

“Weasley!” 

Though it wasn’t addressing her, Angelina turned towards the voice anyway. Cedric Diggory, clad in yellow quidditch robes, was approaching with the rest of the Hufflepuff team. Angelina had heard that he was the new Hufflepuff seeker, and although she had never seen him play she suspected that he was good. Cedric had proven in the past year to be good at everything, and she doubted quidditch would be the thing to break that streak.

“I didn’t know you were on the team this year,” Cedric addressed Fred, flashing a smile that Angelina felt was far too kind to be used while talking to your competition. But then, Cedric was a Hufflepuff. 

“Me and George are the beaters,” replied Fred, waving his club in the air.

There was a look in Cedric’s eyes that Angelina wasn’t sure she’d ever seen in him before. He looked...apprehensive? Maybe he was scared Fred would hit him. 

“Guess I’ll have to watch out,” said Cedric, the look leaving his face, replaced with a charismatic grin. “Good luck then.”

“Yeah, good luck,” replied Fred cheerfully. “Hope you lose!”

…

1991

Fred noticed, their third year that Cedric was different.

Well, not Fred specifically. Everyone noticed. Cedric had always been handsome, but that year he came back from summer break taller and handsomer than ever before. His hair was long enough to fall attractively in his eyes when he moved, his jawline had become distinctively sharper, and his arms showed off lean muscle that had not been as prominent before. 

“You know, staring at Diggory isn’t going to make him fall in love with you.”

The quip was directed at Angelina, but for a moment Fred was worried his brother meant to poke fun at him. That couldn’t be true, though. Fred wasn’t staring. 

Angelina, though, most certainly was. She and every other third year girl had spent a lot of time staring at the Hufflepuff table since the beginning of school. 

“What’s so great about Diggory anyway,” George asked in between bites of food. “He only beat Charlie to the snitch once last year, and that was because a bludger got him.”

“Yeah but Charlie isn’t on the team anymore, which makes Cedric the best seeker in Hogwarts.”

Angelina was, admittedly, right. Cedric had caught the snitch in every game against Slytherin, and only been beaten by Ravenclaw seeker Cho Chang once. George caught Fred’s eye, and Fred tore his thoughts from quidditch to slide closer to Angelina with his twin.

“Oh it’s Cedric now is it?”

“Does Cedric know he’s been promoted to Prettiest Boy in School?”

“He must know, after all he’s Cedric-”

“-number one seeker-”

“-king of the hufflepuffs-”

“-stealer of hearts-”

“-Cedric Diggory.”

Angelina glared. “I hate you both,” she stated, then promptly stood and left the Great Hall.

Lee Jordan sidled up to the twins, slapping Fred on the back. “Diggory is pretty, you have to admit.”

“Get out,” retorted Fred, shoving another spoonful of pudding in his mouth. 

Cedric Diggory may have all the girls in school swooning over him, but Fred certainly was not. Fred was not a swooner. 

…

Fred was quite sure he had never accidentally walked into the Hufflepuff quidditch locker room. They were on opposite sides of the quidditch pitch, and were covered in their respective house colors. So when Cedric Diggory “accidentally” walked into the Gryffindor locker room three hours before their final match against each other that year, Fred assumed he was up to something. 

“No seriously, I came in the wrong door,” Cedric defended, nervously wringing his hands through his hair.

Fred raised his eyebrows at the taller boy. He was almost certain that one of the top students in the grade was not dumb enough to suddenly forget the location of a room he had been going in and out of regularly for a year. What he couldn’t figure out was why Cedric would choose to come here. The locker room was empty except for Fred - he’d left his Potions essay in the room after practice that morning - which would have made it a good time to cause some sort of mischief to hinder the Gryffindors in their upcoming game, but Cedric had always been a good sport. Fred highly doubted Cedric would try to cheat. He was much too Hufflepuff for that.

Still, Fred smirked at the boy and said, “You better not be trying to cheat. Scared Potter’s gonna beat you to the snitch?” 

“You think I’m scared of a first year?” asked Cedric, stepping forward. For a moment, Fred was slightly thrown by the fact that Cedric had responded with something other than a smile, or a wish of luck to Harry. Just for a moment. 

“A first year who killed You-Know-Who when he was a baby. Beating you at Quidditch should be a piece of cake.”

Cedric’s smile faltered, and Fred suddenly wondered if he shouldn’t joke about such things; if Cedric was one of the few that believed Voldemort was not truly dead and could kill them at any moment. 

“Should I be scared of you then?” Cedric asked, a gleam in his eyes. “You and George nearly sent Cho to the Hospital Wing a couple weeks ago.”

If Fred had been paying more attention, he might have stopped to wonder at what Cedric had just said. He might have taken the time to ask how Cedric had been able to say “You and George” so confidently, when Fred had not mentioned his name. As if he wasn’t an identical twin, and Fred was the only person who looked like him in the whole world. 

But Fred wasn’t paying attention, because Cedric was looking at him with a mixture of playfulness and intensity that he had not expected from the Hufflepuff. He was suddenly very aware of conversations he’d overheard at the beginning of the school year, when everyone had collectively decided that Cedric was hot. He scrambled to think of something to say, a joke or witty comeback, but his brain wasn’t working normally so he blurted out the first thing he could think of:

“Don’t worry Diggory, I’d never want a bludger to mess up your pretty face.”

Cedric paused for a fraction of a second before laughing - a fraction of a second that, for Fred, felt like an eternity. And then, feeling more out of control than he’d felt in his entire life, Fred turned on his heel and ran. 

…

Gryffindor lost. Gryffindor house was not known for being gracious losers, and Fred Weasley was no exception. So when Cedric leaned closer to him as the teams shook hands at the end of the game and whispered, “Thanks for saving my pretty face,” Fred snappily told him to fuck off. 

He meant it too. In that moment, Fred was sure that besides the Slytherins, Cedric Diggory and his stupid hair was the most annoying person in Hogwarts.


	2. 4th year

1992

“First Wood, now Diggory, I dunno why they keep making fourth years quidditch captains. They’ll start to think too highly of themselves.”

George noticed Angelina roll her eyes at the comment. Internally, he wanted to do the same. While poking fun at their peers was as easy as breathing for the twins, George had noticed that Fred’s complaints were directed at the Hufflepuff seeker a bit too often lately. 

He pushed those thoughts aside though, grinning and adding, “Guess we’ll just have to knock their egos out of them.”

Angelina reached around her cauldron to steal George’s dagger. “If you hit Wood with a bludger I will have Lee shave both of your heads while you’re sleeping,” she threatened calmly. “We don’t have any other competent people to play keeper.”

George winked at his brother, who was trying to toss pickled frog toes into Marcus Flint’s cauldron. 

“I dunno Johnson, I think shaved heads might be a good look for us, don’t you Fred?”

Fred, who had now successfully turned Flint’s potion the color of puke, shot a smile at Angelina. “I reckon we’d pull it off. And if you shave our heads, we might have to shave Diggory’s. All the girls in the school would have a melt down, and it’d be your fault.”

George noted that this was the third time that day Fred had brought up Cedric. It was odd, he and his twin were often so alike in their thought processes, but Fred seemed to see some reason to pick on the Hufflepuff that George didn’t. Could it be a Quidditch thing? Fred had always been more competitive with the sport, especially when Hufflepuffs were involved. 

As he watched his brother crush a spider leg between his fingers, George concluded that yes, it must be a Quidditch thing. After all, what else could it be?

…

Gilderoy Lockhart was the most incompetent teacher in history, Fred was sure of it. However, reviving the Dueling Club at Hogwarts was an idea he could fully support - the only idea of Lockhart’s he could say that about. 

“Hey Diggory!”

Fred had always had a competitive streak. He was a Gryffindor, it was in his nature. And being on the quidditch team only fuelled that streak. So when Cedric Diggory, quidditch captain and darling of Hufflepuff house, disarmed Oliver Wood in front of 20 other students, Fred felt like someone needed to redeem Gryffindor in the eyes of the students.

“You and me, let’s go!”

Cedric didn’t look phased by the challenge - in fact he looked sort of amused. He laughed lightly as he accepted Fred’s challenge, which was rapidly becoming one of Fred’s least favorite things about him. When Cedric beat Gryffindor in a quidditch match, it was annoying. When he performed new spells perfectly on the first try, it was annoying. When he walked into the Great Hall and everyone acted like the whole goddamn world had just gotten a bit brighter, it was annoying. But Cedric Diggory laughing? That was the worst. It was like his laugh wormed its way inside Fred’s head and took root there, making him feel some emotion he didn’t quite understand. 

As he faced Cedric, Fred realized the Hufflepuff’s eyes were grey. He wondered how he hadn’t noticed before. He might’ve thought they were quite beautiful, but his attention was pulled away from Cedric’s eyes by the words that next left the other boy’s mouth.

“Ready to lose?”

…

Fred lost. 

It wasn’t surprising, really. Cedric was probably the best wizard in their year. Two days later, Gryffindor had a quidditch match against Hufflepuff. As they walked out onto the field, Fred caught eyes with Cedric and mouthed, “Ready to lose?” at the boy. 

When Harry Potter caught the golden snitch, Fred thought that victory had never felt sweeter. 

…

Fred couldn’t breathe. 

“Where are you going?”

Faintly Fred could hear George telling Percy to let Fred go, but he was gone before he could hear Percy’s reply. As he stumbled through the halls, Fred was sure that the paintings he passed were looking at him. He could feel their eyes following him, knew that they saw his bright red hair and knew exactly who he was. 

It had been scary when writing in blood showed up on the walls, and when students started being petrified, but Fred had selfishly thought that it wasn’t something he needed to worry about. He was pureblood, he had assumed that meant a certain level of safety. He had dreamed once that George had been turned to stone, his face frozen in the ghost of a laugh he would never hear again. But he had never imagined something might actually happen, especially not to Ginny. 

“Fred?”

Briefly Fred registered that the voice he was hearing was not George’s, and prepared to lash out at whoever it was that had run after him, but the words died in his throat when he suddenly found himself looking into dark grey eyes. 

Cedric’s hair was wet. 

Fred had seen his hair plastered to his face after quidditch matches in the rain, but now it was just damp, like Cedric had towelled it off in a hurry. It made him look...messier. A bit less put together than the Hufflepuff who had charmed the entire school into liking him. 

It was only when Cedric moved to sit down next to him that Fred realized he was on the floor. He didn’t ask if Fred was okay. Fred wondered if he already knew, if a ghost or teacher had told him. He wanted to ask, but when he opened his mouth they were not the words that came out. 

“You always call me Fred.”

Cedric looked slightly confused, like he wasn’t expecting Fred to say that. 

“That’s your name.”

Fred blinked. “But there’s two of me,” he said dumbly. “I mean, two of us. Me and George.”

Cedric tilted his head, and Fred wished he could read the emotion that seemed to fill them now. 

“You’re shorter, your face is rounder, your voice is higher, and your nose is a bit straighter,” said Cedric after a pause. 

“You noticed.” 

It wasn’t a question, not really, but Cedric answered anyway.

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Fred didn’t know what to say after that, so he looked away from Cedric, down at his fingers which he was nervously drumming against his knee. 

“They took Ginny to the chamber.”

Cedric didn’t react audibly, and if he did physically it was small enough that Fred didn’t see it. There was a pause of silence long enough that Fred wondered if he had even spoken out loud, but just as he was going to say something else, Cedric spoke. 

“They let the quidditch captains use the Prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor. If you need a place to be alone, I can get you in.”

A warm feeling washed over Fred as he looked back up at the other fourth year, someone he had considered a rival for years now. It was a feeling of safety, one that he had only ever felt around George. 

“I can give you the password and you can go, or we can stay here. It’s your choice.”

Brown eyes met grey, and Fred spoke without thinking. 

“We can just stay here.”

And there they sat, leaning against the wall in an abandoned corridor, both silently worried about a red-haired Weasley. 

“Feel free to still give me the password, though.”

Cedric laughed. 

...


	3. 5th Year Part 1

1993

“Of course Diggory’s a prefect.”

As captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team, Oliver Wood tended to give into house rivalries, especially with the other teams’ captains. He was already self conscious following in Charlie Weasley’s footsteps - who had gone on to work with dragons, mind you - and watching Cedric Diggory walk into the Great Hall with a prefects badge pinned to his chest had not been a boost for Oliver’s confidence. 

“Jealous, Wood?”

Oliver threw a bread roll at Lee Jordan, who ducked causing it to bounce off the side of Angelina Johnson’s head. 

“Course not, we’ll still beat Hufflepuff at quidditch,” replied Oliver after mouthing a quick ‘sorry’ at Gryffindor’s best chaser, “Diggory being a goody two shoes won’t change that.”

One of the Weasley twins - Oliver really couldn’t tell them apart - patted Oliver on the back so hard he almost choked on pumpkin juice.

“But you’re a goody two shoes Ollie,” the twin said, “Are you sure you aren’t just jealous?”

The other twin appeared seemingly out of thin air on the other side of Oliver - something the Quidditch captain had noticed was a skill of theirs. 

“We wouldn’t blame you if you were jealous,” said the second twin, leaning in a bit too close for Oliver’s complete comfort, “I mean, look at the two of you. Diggory’s smarter, better at magic, a faster flyer, more popular, prettier, the list goes on.”

Oliver shoved the red head lightly on the shoulder, making an expression that showed more anger than he actually felt. 

“Keep talking like that, Weasley, and I’ll start to think you’re in love with the guy,” he taunted. 

On the other side of him, George snorted. “Yeah Fred, if you keep talking like that you’ll sound obsessed.”

Fred muttered a quiet, “as if,” and went back to his meal. Oliver noticed Angelina give George a meaningful look, but before he could wonder what it could be about a bread roll bounced off his head.

“Jordan!!!”

…

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

Cedric tilted his head, his grey eyes flickering from Fred’s face to his hands and back again. 

“You mean you aren’t trying to break the wards on the door to Filch’s office while your brother and Jordan are causing mayhem on the fourth floor?”

Fred shrugged. “Okay, it’s exactly what it looks like. But if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it.”

The red head winked, and Cedric felt a slight rush of blood to his face. 

“You realize I’m a Prefect, right?”

Fred looked at him innocently. “Are you?”

“Yes I-” Cedric was about to point out that he was clearly wearing a Prefect’s badge, before remembering that he had seen Fred teasing his older brother about his badge multiple times. “Why else would I be roaming the halls after hours.”

“Thought you might be off to a midnight rendezvous in a broom closet with some lucky girl,” replied Fred, and Cedric wondered briefly if the theory was based off of the Gryffindor’s personal experience. For some reason, he hoped it wasn’t. 

He couldn’t think of anything witty to say to that, so he simply murmured, “I’m not.”

“Next time, then,” said Fred, who was now facing Filch’s door again, raising his wand.

Cedric surged forward, his hand closing around the other boy’s wrist. 

“You can’t just-”

“Why not?” interrupted Fred, his eyes shooting to Cedric’s. “You gonna stop me, Diggory?”

Cedric was acutely aware that their faces were now inches apart, and his hand burned where it was still locked around the boy’s wrist. They stood there, like that, for a few seconds too long to be natural, then Cedric let go of his wrist and stepped back.

“Ten points from Gryffindor,” he said, slowly backing away.

Cedric glanced up and down the hallway, before throwing a silent spell at the wooden door. As he walked down the corridor, Cedric thought he heard a quiet, “Thanks, Diggory.”  
He smiled.

…

“I’m not doing that.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” pouted Fred, waving the Marauder’s Map in the other boy’s face.

Cedric pulled the map from Fred’s hand, holding it behind his back as he looked at the Gryffindor with as stern an expression as he could muster. 

“I am not sneaking into Honeydukes with you.”

“You know it will be fun,” said Fred, trying and failing to snatch the map from Cedric’s grasp, “I know there’s a bad boy in you somewhere. Need I remind you about your midnight rendezvous?”

“The only person I’ve seen around midnight lately is you, Weasley,” replied Cedric, holding the map above his head so the shorter boy couldn’t reach it.

“Should we meet in a broom closet next time?” 

Cedric raced to think of something to say, distracted by images of meeting Fred for a reason other than to take house points from him in the middle of the night, but could think of nothing good to say.

“I’ll take Honeydukes.”

…

“Cedric’s looking at you again.”

“Shut it, Johnson.”

“No really, he’s been staring at you all class.”

Fred took a handful of dirt from the pot he was currently filling and chucked it at Angelina. “What are you, stalking him?”

Angelina smirked, despite now having a splattering of dirt across her robes. “I’m not the one sneaking out of the school to go on dates to Hogsmeade with him.”

“They’re not dates,” hissed Fred, glancing around to see if any of their classmates were paying attention to the conversation. 

Lee, who had fully given up on potting his plant, interjected, “They kinda sound like dates.”

“Well they’re not.”

Angelina decided not to press the issue. A few minutes later, while Professor Sprout was giving instructions on cleanup, she leaned in to whisper in Fred’s ear.

“They may not be dates, but Cho says Cedric looks happier after every single one of them.”

…

“Cedric?”

Gryffindor was playing Slytherin, which meant there was no reason for Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff seeker extraordinaire, to be outside the quidditch locker rooms instead of in the stands. Yet here he was.

“I wanted to say good luck today,” Cedric said softly, and Fred was sure that there was something different in his voice - some quality he had never heard before. 

“You’re wearing red,” he noticed, smiling slightly.

“For Gryffindor.”

Fred’s smile got wider. “Not for me?

Cedric’s lips broke into a smile, his eyes never leaving Fred’s. “Maybe for you.”

As he stared at the grey of Cedric’s pupils, Fred realized what was different about Cedric now. Up to this point, Cedric had always seemed slightly guarded during their interactions, as if he lacked the courage to be fully relaxed. Now, standing a foot away from Fred, dressed in Gryffindor’s colors, Cedric looked completely calm, all hints of nervousness having disappeared. 

“I thought I should tell you,” started Cedric, stepping closer, “since I rarely get to say it to you...”

Whether Cedric was too close now, or not close enough, Fred couldn’t decide. All he knew was that the taller boy was inches away from him and his lips had never looked softer. 

“I hope you win.”

Then Cedric’s lips were on his and his hands were cupping his face, and Fred thought it didn’t matter what the outcome of the match would be, because in that moment, he had never felt more like a winner. 

...


End file.
